The Absurdity of it All
by AmputeeTrainee
Summary: Russia, concerned that he and America are losing their spark in the modern era, goes to France for some advice. Apparently Nantucket, that innocent cowlick, is actually an erogenous zone. Equipped with the absurd advice Russia goes to visit America to see if such a claim is true and if it will help them rekindle their passion. De-anon from Kink Meme. Slash, human named used.


"Well, think of it this way," France prattled conversationally to him over the rim of his wineglass, "If you weren't satisfying him, he would have sought greener pastures by now, non?"

"I don't find that very consoling Francis." Ivan murmured, something like displeasure flitting through his eyes.

The idea of Alfred moving on because he was discontent had crossed Ivan's mind before. Being reminded of such a notion didn't sit well with him. Granted, they were still 'an item', as Alfred referred to them. Yet, the sheer fact that they were still together didn't fill him with confidence for the future considering their problematic and rough past relations.

"But it's true, non?" Francis' questioned, cocking an eyebrow his way.

The look on Ivan's face must have said otherwise, because Francis quickly cleared his throat and nervously scratched at his temple.

"Look, mon cher. You know as well as I do that Alfred always has had that 'bigger and better' mentality. If you weren't pleasing him, I'm sure he would have said something."

"But…" Ivan trailed off uncertainly. He let his fingers play with a ring of water, tracing a wet circle on the lacquered bar top.

"He is vocal, isn't he?"

"Oh, very much so." Ivan snorted and shook his head.

"Alfred always did like to hear the sound of his own voice."

"Like many nations I know."

France caught the sideways look violet eyes cast and shrugged languidly. A mischievous smile twisted the Frenchman's lips.

"Some of us have very eloquent voices; it would be a shame if they weren't heard." Francis quibbled with a well-measured dose of narcissism.

"Even during sex?"

"But carnal exclamations are all a part of the experience! Moans of lust and passion are-"

Ivan waved his hand, cutting the other off. "I meant full sentences."

"Alfred is into dirty talk?"

"Ah…" Not expecting the sudden frankness, Ivan's paused, at a loss for a moment. "Well…yes but he says more than that."

He could see Francis inch closer out of the corner of his eye, almost bumping their arms together in his sudden peak of curiously. Notoriously willing to aid those in need of love advice, Francis tended to zone in on the juicer tidbits that were thrown his way. In many ways, Francis acted just as he had in court all those years ago: gossipy and dastardly playful. It was nice to see how some things never changed, even though Ivan didn't exactly appreciate it at times like these.

"Oh-ho, do tell." Francis purred contently next to him.

"Well, last time he wouldn't stop talking about his latest video game purchase." Ivan said with a shrug, almost able to taste Francis' disappointment. Oddly, it didn't make him feel any better.

"Honestly?" The disbelief coloring Francis' tone should have been expected, but it made Ivan a little self-conscious.

"Да."

"Does that happen…often?"

"Unfortunately." Ivan admitted, picking up the vodka bottle from the counter before taking a swig. He tried to look unaffected as Francis clicked in tongue in what must have been disapproval.

"Mon cher." Again, that irksome clicking. "How long is it that you two have been going for?"

"Officially or unofficially?" Ivan asked, avoiding the other's eyes, suddenly finding the vodka before him to be much more interesting.

It wasn't a well-kept secret that they had been seeing each other during the Cold War. Quite a few nations knew. It was amazing that they had managed to keep such relations concealed from their bosses. The wave of destruction that would manifest in the wake of such private occasions was difficult to hide.

Nowadays, things were different from how they had once been. Since the 1990's the whole dynamic of their relationship had changed drastically. Quick and brutal meetings in empty rooms became well-mannered, even civilized dates. What had once been rough, callous spats for dominance transformed into an honest attempt at a relationship. No longer was it considered an act of weakness to show tenderness or compassion toward another's well-being. Their lovemaking, dare he say it, had become fairly gentle. Impeccably tame really, considering how it had been previously, perhaps too much so.

He had been under the belief that they both had wished for a change from their roughhousing. After all, neither of them was very good at knowing their limits, or moreover, neither was willing to admit when such limits had been reached. Love had been a painful affair for them, for rivals it had no choice but to be. Broken bones, blacked eyes, split lips; those had been their marks of devotion. Now, it didn't have to be that way. They had a choice. They could hold one another now without contempt. They could kiss, touch, and taste without needing to harm.

Had they allowed themselves to become too soft with each other though? Was lovemaking proving to be boring and tiresome to Alfred? Was he not good enough to please him anymore?

"However long you feel it's been a relationship for." France mused, pulling Ivan from his troubling thoughts.

"A long time then," He admitted, more to himself than the nation beside him. For nearly sixty years it had been only Alfred and himself, and that rivalry was fairly close to a relationship, was it not? "It has changed though."

"But of course it has, we all change overtime." Francis' voice oozed reassurance, and Ivan couldn't help but subconsciously drink it in. He lifted his wisteria eyes to look at the other man.

"I suppose."

"Has it been a good change?"

"In some respects." Ivan's shoulders bobbed halfheartedly. "Some days I enjoy what we are, the new us. Others…" His words trailed off.

Other days he missed the passion, albeit violence, of their not so distinct past. Did Alfred feel the same? Maybe so. Was that why he wouldn't stop rambling on? Did he dislike how pacified their relations had become?

Francis laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling pat. "There, there. Relationships are all about compromise and change, if something is not to your liking, you should say so."

"Perhaps." Ivan murmured.

"You are missing something, I can tell these sorts of things." Francis leered knowingly. "What is it?"

A sigh escaped him. "I miss…I miss fucking like we used too, I think." It was his turn to be utterly frank, but it didn't catch Francis by surprise, very little managed to make the Frenchman bat an eye. He could hear Francis' soft, bell-like laughter tinkling good-humoredly as he continued. "So many are open about their love lives, I hear things. Alfred and I, we are not like that anymore. I listen to such wild escapades and tales, it makes me-"

"Envious?"

"Нет, worried."

"Ahh," The Frenchmen smoothed, rubbing his shoulder. The contact made Ivan shift uncomfortably, not one for such exchanges. "You are worried about losing your spark."

"Да, as I said in the beginning." Ivan's said flatly. "Have you not been listening to me Francis?"

"But of course I have, I just wanted to hear you say it more completely." The other lectured, leaning on him now. "Guiding one to self-realization is a worthy endeavor."

Ivan wriggled his shoulders, pushing the Frenchman away with an elbow. "I think you are just wasting my time."

Francis caught the sour edge in his voice all too easily. He reached out again and rested his hand on Ivan's forearm. Really, the Frenchman was far too touchy-feely, almost to a fault.

"Now, now, I do have a good bit of advice, or a secret, if you will. You want to hear it, non?"

The teasing edge in France's voice was irritating, but intriguing nevertheless. Ivan allowed the other to lean in, bending down so that Francis could whisper into his ear. Hot, wine-laden breath murmured what must have been a tantalizing secret to him. As he pulled away, the self-assured look that painted Francis' face confirmed just how scandalous and alluring the words were supposed to be. Ivan, however, couldn't help but begin to giggle at the absurdity of it all. The smug look on the Frenchman's face wavered instantly.

"That's a funny joke, but really, I thought your humor was supposed to be wittier than that." Ivan chuckled lightly, smile curling his lips.

Francis just turned his head away, looking stung. "Fine. Don't believe me."

"Come now, Francis don't be so cross." Ivan tormented the other lightly, smile growing across his pale face. "You have to admit such a notion is rather absurd."

"Oh really?" Francis challenged, blue eyes narrowing. Despite his frivolous and playful nature, the Frenchman hated to be ribbed in return. "So then, I suppose the exceeding sensitivity of your neck is absurd as well?"

Ivan's mouth opened and then closed just as quickly. Violet eyes lost their mirth in a heartbeat. Point taken. He couldn't help but burrow his chin into the pale pink fabric of his scarf and hunch his shoulders on reflex. Such a tender spot wasn't supposed to be relieved so shamelessly.

"So it's true?" Ivan asked, ever the skeptic.

"Oui."

"But it's just hair."

Francis gave an answering shrug as he drained the wine from his glass.

Ever since the Great Patriotic War, Ivan had grown to dislike airplanes. While most, particularly Yao, would point out that it hadn't been the aircraft's fault and that if he had worn a parachute his accident could have been avoided all together, Ivan still mistrusted them to a degree. The long flight to Washington D.C however did give him ample time to think, and for that he was grateful. Well, somewhat at least. While he would like to believe his lengthy pondering was perfectly healthy, others might call it worrying.

Ever since his talk with France, Ivan had begun to see his relationship in a slightly different light. In fact, he was starting to see everyone else's relations differently. Every nation had their weakness: militarily, economically, and so forth. Those were the common ones. These were the things that mattered in human affairs, but when considering the humanized representative of a nation, weaknesses of an entirely different caliber came into play. Francis had called them erogenous zones but Ivan couldn't help but regard them for what they really were, a weakness.

The Italian brother's curls were a prime example. Ivan had long since regarded those silly springs of hair for exactly that; silly, untamable locks of hair and nothing more. They hadn't interested him. Now, though, he was starting the piece it together. The brothers would always blush and act strangely if those cowlicks were handled. It was rather obviously really, now that he thought about it. Spain was forever teasing Romano, and tugging on his curl always did give an interesting if not loud reaction.

Ivan was beginning to wonder why he hadn't figured it out sooner. Though, perhaps the periods of isolation he'd undergone throughout his life did explain the slow realization somewhat. After all, his body had its own weak point. It was merely a fact though, something he lived with and tended to forget about. The notion that other nations had these areas as well was a rather new concept to him. While Ivan was no longer the lonely and secluded nation of his youth, he really didn't deal with many of his kind physically on a regular basis. No doubt Francis had long since worked out the nature of their weaknesses already considering his list of bedmates.

Still, the main focus of all this was Alfred. Of course his little sunflower would have his own special fault. Perhaps he really was a poor lover to have not made that discovery on his own. After all, Alfred had figured out his by now, but honestly, it wasn't his fault such a place was routinely kissed and licked and sucked on by lovers. Really, he hadn't stood much of a chance. The neck was obvious, but a lock of hair? Simply absurd.

However, that too was starting to make sense. If Ivan really thought about it, Alfred was very finicky about his hair, forever fussing over it. Whenever Ivan had attempted to run his fingers through the other's hair in affection or spite, Alfred had always pushed him away. Usually spouting something like, 'Don't mess up the do bro', as he waved his hand away. Ivan had thought little of it, stranger things had occurred between them. He merely wrote it off as vanity and forgot about it. Apparently, it hadn't been textbook narcissism, not entirely anyway.

Sighing, Ivan and sunk as far back into the seat as the cushion would allow. How had he not seen it? Now that Francis had all but thrown the answer to him, everything else made sense. What kind of lover doesn't know, or worse still, can't find their partner's most sensitive spot?

Ivan shook his head, as if physically trying to force the answer from his mind. This weekend things were going to be different. He was going to make sure of it. Despite his hectic schedule, Ivan had managed to secure a three day weekend. And although a few interns and secretaries in the Kremlin had been scared in the process, it was for the greater good, because he was going to prove himself to his lover.

So wrapped up was Ivan in his own thoughts, he barely noticed the pilot announcing that they were now nearing Washington D.C. The feeling of his stomach tying itself into nervous knots could not be wholly blamed on the plane's decent.

When Alfred didn't answer the door after the third round of knocking, Ivan decided that it might just be best if he let himself in. He wasn't arriving unannounced. No, such surprise visits had been done away with at the start of their more traditional relationship. Dropping in uninvited had been an amusing game they played during their Cold War days. Almost like a game of spy, except it solely involved breaking and entering.

However, over the years the game had proved to be more trouble than it would worth, but because of it Ivan knew Alfred was terrible at hiding his house key. Lifting the doormat up at corner, Ivan easily found the key, it was almost too simple. Really, his sunflower was so obvious sometimes.

Unlocking the door he found that the foyer empty, as was expected he supposed. The faint, low garble of voices greeted his ears, barely a mummer as if drifted through the house. After removing his boots and leaving them on the door mat Ivan made his way toward the source of the sound. He had always admired Alfred's row home in Washington D.C. above the others.

The American had flats and homes dotted across his country, usually situated in the thrumming centers of his cities. It was absolutely frivolous. For years he had berated Alfred on such silliness. There was no point to owning so many residences when many of them sat empty for most of the year. Only in light of the recent economy downturn had Alfred actually taken heed to his words and had sold or rented some of his properties. It was for the best, one of Alfred's more intelligent decisions as of late.

Honestly, Ivan was rather pleased to see most of the residences go. The D.C. home had always stood above the rest, in Ivan's opinion anyway. The majority of the others have been lavish and a little gaudy, but not this home. As he made his way through the house, following the mummer of voices, Ivan felt comfortable. The home was simplistic, with its warm wooden flooring and cream colored walls. The straight-lines and simplicity of the layout and woodwork was deeply reminiscent of times past. This historic style always reminded him far more of Alfred than the cold and polished marbles, tiles, and metals of more modern homes.

The sound was coming from the back of the house, the kitchen. As he drew nearer, Ivan could make out the melody in the sound now. A saucy, swaying sort of beat. He couldn't quite identify it yet though, the lyrics too soft to understand. The heavy smell of frying grease wafted over him as Ivan pushed open the kitchen door. A smile instantly lit it face as he spotted Alfred.

An apron wrapped around his waist, Alfred held a spatula in his hand like a microphone as he sang and danced along to the song coming from his ipod dock. Hamburgers sizzled hotly, spitting and sputtering in the frying pan, but Alfred couldn't be bothered at the moment. Eyes closed, the man swayed his hips, singing along, attempting to copy the seductive almost pleading tone of the singer. For a moment, Ivan just chose to lean silently against the doorframe, content to watch the show.

"It's now or never, come hold me tight. Kiss me my darling, be mine tonight." Alfred sang, oblivious to the world.

Ivan just shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. This caught Alfred attention instantly because he jumped. Blue eyes flew open, surprise flashing across Alfred face for a second before a warm grin broke out.

"Hey, big guy!"

"Hello."

Smiles greeted each other.

"I didn't expect you to sneak in here." Alfred said, scratching the back of his head. Grinning that sheepish grin of his, the one Alfred gave when he had been caught doing something slightly embarrassing. Ivan found he did have a knack for humiliating the other, often without trying.

"I did knock."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that man, guess I didn't hear ya." Alfred apologized, shrugging for emphasis.

"No worries," Ivan assured. "I did rather enjoy the show. I assume I get dinner as well?" He asked, nodding toward the stove.

"Yessire!" Alfred beamed, attention turning to the sizzling patties, prodding at them with his spatula. "Thought it would be nice, ya know?"

Ivan nodded and moved forward. Feeling compelled to add to the domestic scene before him. Just a few decades ago this would have been go strange. Even now it was still felt a bit odd. Nice, yes, but this calm, homey situation was still new to them both. Try as they might, it still felt a little awkward. Someone always had to take the first step to initiate affection. Decades of suspicion and second-guessing had breed caution between them, and that had yet to dissipate fully. In truth, it probably never would.

Coming up behind the other, he let his hands rest on Alfred's hips as he pressed a chaste kiss to his temple. Simple and sweet and so unlike their former days.

"It is a nice gesture." He admitted, though inwardly he wished Alfred had cooked something else. Hamburgers weren't awful, they were just terribly predictable. Violet eyes watched as the meat was flipped over in the pan. The music paused, and another song began, the same voice to a different tune.

"Elivs?" Ivan asked.

"Yeaa, it's just been that kinda day, you know?" Alfred admitted.

He had never really understood Alfred's love for the musician. Over the years though, Ivan had learn to associate the melancholy lyrics and swaying melodies to bad days. For whatever reason, Elvis Presley's sultry voice was comforting to Alfred. Recently, he'd been hearing a lot of the King of Rock and Roll, and that could probably be attributed to turmoil of current days.

Ivan gave an understanding grunt in the back of his throat, and perched his chin atop the other's blonde head. He let his arms to wrap loosely around Alfred's waist, eyeing the strange cowlick just centimeters in front of his nose

"Да, but this evening, I think we can forget about such troubles." He murmured hintingly.

"Totally man." A chuckle came from Alfred, and he bobbed his head causing the strand of hair to move.

Ivan merely smiled in return. This was how their domesticated dance would begin, on unsure but sweet steps. Slowly, moving through the evening, they followed a new set of rules, subtle and tender rules that were so very different from those violent days of yesteryear. A little odd and awkward, but nice in their way, and Ivan knew them well. Even though that cowlick bobbed teasing before his eyes, he held his curiosity at bay for now. He would just have to wait just a little longer to follow Francis' advice.

Alfred was a little subdued now, a bit tired and worn from a long day, but all too soon he would become enticingly energetic. However, that tended to happen after Alfred's most basic need was met. Nothing lifted the man's sprits quite like a good meal. Ivan would have to wait until after dinner.

He could be a patient man when he wanted to be. He would wait. However, that didn't stop Ivan from sighing a little more forcefully than need be, warm breath stirring the lock of hair into motion.

"Ahh," Alfred twisted suddenly and a little too forcefully out of his lose grip. "Crap, forgot. Gotta get plates man…"

Alfred moved so quickly away from him and toward the cupboard, Ivan almost missed spying the telltale pink that dusted his cheeks. His smile widened.

"Нет, Нет." Ivan chirped and followed behind him.

Well, maybe on second thought he could torment Alfred just a little before dinner. Only a little, just playfully, nothing much. After all, he had no idea how sensitive the little sprig of hair was. He had no baseline for such a thing, maybe he could just test it, secretly. It wasn't like he didn't tease Alfred normally anyway, much to the younger nation's delight and annoyance.

"Let me help, you've been so busy."

Alfred, who had already opened the cabinet, looked back at him over his shoulder.

"Naww, it's cool, I got it." Alfred said but Ivan was already reaching over his head with long arms.

With his height and extended reach he got the plates before the American. He could hear a sigh as Alfred was once again reminded of Ivan's advantage over him.

"Jeez, man why you gotta be so tal-"

The words cut off in a gasp as Ivan let his forearm innocently skim the top of Alfred's head. He could see the shiver immediately run up the other's spine like an electric jolt and the small breath of surprise that left Alfred's lips was unmistakable. Well, well it appeared that Francis was on to something. Quickly he set the plates down on the counter and laid a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, hiding his curiosity. "I'm sorry I bumped you."

Alfred's cheeks had blossomed into a deep shade of crimson and Ivan couldn't help but admire the color. His blue eyes were wide, a little unfocused. Alfred swallowed once then twice before answering.

"Ah-h yea man." Alfred said and tried to push him away, but Ivan wasn't having any of that.

He probably shouldn't push the younger nation further, but seeing the sudden spark of surprised lust in those sapphire eyes had Ivan reconsidering. He had never been good at knowing when to stop his games. The shock on Alfred's face was too delectable, a look he didn't see often anymore, especially when it was directed at him. Ivan was willing to admit that he was a man of faults and one was his insatiable curiosity.

"Are you sure Мой дорогой?" Ivan stepped closer. "You don't look so well, you're all red."

He laid his hand on Alfred's forehead like a concerned parent feeling for a fever.

"Y-yeah, yeah man. I'm fine." Alfred insisted.

Ivan clicked his tongue in feigned worry. He couldn't stop himself. He should have tried to restrain his inquisitiveness but he simply couldn't. Not when temptation was so tantalizingly close. Ivan let his hand run up and tangle briefly in silky beach blonde hair, just a consoling pet while he gazed at the other in mock concern.

The reaction was immediate. Alfred went boneless. His head lulled back, spine arching so that Ivan had to quickly counter and grab him by the waist to hold him upright. And the sound, the sound! The strangled moan that came out of Alfred taunt throat made Ivan's head swim.

"Alfred?" Ivan asked, drinking in the sight of him.

Alfred glanced up at him with lidded eyes over glasses that had slipped precariously down his nose. The American was panting softly, lips parted. Alfred took a step back, and Ivan followed until they were leaning against the island counter. Without thinking he leaned in, ready to capture those quivering lips with his own but then a hand pushed at his shoulder, hard.

"S-stop." Alfred said almost pleadingly, craning his head away from him. "The, the burgers will burn."

Ivan blinked and stared down at him. Oh. Of course. Food came first. He couldn't trample the disappointment that flared in his chest, burning like a hot coal. For a moment the temptation to forcibly crush Alfred back against the island anyway crossed his mind and it was difficult to say no to the idea.

A few years ago he would have disregarded the food, comfort, and Alfred's resistance completely. He would have found such a plea laughable. He would have made the other beg for mercy instead. He would have…would have. He was not that man anymore. Ivan sighed and pushed those violent thoughts from his mind.

"I'll get them." He murmured and released Alfred.

Perhaps France had been wrong. What a bitter disappointment. Ivan had turned off the stove and moved the burgers to a cool burner before he heard footstep racing up the stairs.

"Alfred?"

A door upstairs slammed shut. Alfred had run away. Ivan brow creased in confusion. That didn't make sense. Sure he had spent the better part of sixty years degrading Alfred for a laundry list of faults, cowardice included, but that wasn't necessarily true. The American was fairly confrontational and fearless, matters of the occult aside. Running away, especially from him, wasn't something Alfred did. What had he done?

Ivan shook his head and leaned his palms on the counter. He shouldn't have done that. He should have asked America first or something. Maybe he had hurt the other nation. A part of him though, a dark part questioned why it should matter.

The day Alfred had discovered his particular weakness he hadn't been kind. No, Alfred had used it and exploited it for what it was, a weakness. The bite had taken weeks to heal. That had been one of their more vicious personal encounters.

Ivan scrunched his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. That had been a lifetime ago though, they were different people now. And it did matter. Hurting Alfred did matter. It had always mattered, but now there was little delight from it.

Drawling a breath Ivan straightened his shoulders and left the kitchen. He slowly made his way up stairs, careful to be loud enough so that his approach would he heard. When he got the second floor he noticed the bathroom was closed and light leaked out from under the door.

"Alfred?" He asked knocking on the door.

"Go away." Alfred blurted out then added. "I'll be out soon."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying." He could hear the pout in the other's voice.

"Alfred please…I…I didn't mean to hurt you."

The light under the door moved and then it clicked open just enough for Alfred to stick his head out. His face was still flushed, hair mussed, glasses slipping down his nose.

"Look, I'm not hurt okay."

"Then why are you hiding?" Ivan pressed. "Why run? You…you never run from me."

His heart panged as he said that, not having realized how true those words were and how much they meant until he said them aloud. Everyone else ran away at some point, but never Alfred. Not Alfred. For better or worse Alfred had always been too stubborn, too foolhardy to flee before.

"I'm not hurt I swear, just…"

Ivan watched Alfred's face get redder as he trailed off. Movie star teeth worried at Alfred's bottom lip and Ivan found his patients draining quickly.

"What?"

"Dude, come on." Alfred pleaded. "Just wait for me downstairs."

"No, tell me. Now."

"Jeez." Alfred huffed and rolled his eyes like a teenager. "I'm embarrassed. You happy now?"

"No." Ivan said frankly and pushed against the door.

Alfred only pushed back and the door creaked threateningly between them.

"Don't break my door!"

"Then let me in."

Alfred sighed in exasperation. "Fine! You gave me an erection by touching my hair, are you happy?"

So then it was true.

"You're embarrassed over that?" Ivan cocked his head quizzically.

"Yes!" Alfred cried.

"Why?"

"Why? WHY?! Dude it's so weird!" Alfred lamented loudly. "That's so fucking weird. It's like a crazy fetish thing or something and I can't help it."

"So?"

"Why are you so calm about this? You touched my hair and I got a fucking boner, I'm not fucking thirteen, I shouldn't jizz my pants because someone decides to touch my head." Alfred bemoaned and slumped against the door frame.

Ivan pushed against the door again. "Let me in."

Alfred stared at him for a moment, probably figuring that no matter what he did Ivan would still force his way past the door.

"Fine."

Alfred sighed and sulked away from the door and sat on the closed toilet. He bunched his apron on his lap, but failed to hide the bulge beneath it completely. Ivan moved to sit on the lip of the bathtub so they were eye to eye.

"This is normal Подсолнечник." He consoled.

"No it's not."

"For us it is." He shrugged. "Nations have these areas, we all have them."

Alfred fidgeted with his hands and looked up from his shoes. His lover's past puritanical principles flared from time to time. An entire city dedicated to the sins of the flesh was fine, but getting an unexpected erection was mortifying for some reason. He didn't wholly understand, American sexuality came with an unwritten book of rules, but it was fascinating. Alfred was very paradoxical at times, just like himself.

"Seriously?" Alfred asked.

"Yes." He nodded. "Why do you think my neck is so…sensitive."

Alfred shrugged petulantly. "I don't know, I just thought you were weird." Ivan's jaw went rigged and his face must have darkened considerably because Alfred was quick to open his mouth again. "But hey it's not that I don't like it or anything. I mean its prettying hot actually." Alfred forced a laugh and awkwardly scratched the back of his head, which seemed to remind him of the center of his embarrassment. "But like, your…area or whatever is in a normal place. Mine is…"

"Fine. " Ivan finished for him. "The Italy brothers are the same."

Alfred looked at him in disbelief before his eyes widened and his mouth became a perfect O.

"Duuuude! Oh my god, that makes total sense now. So like the curls are their, oh man. Shit. No wonder Antonio has more sexual harassment complaints than Francis at meetings, he's always messing with Romano's hair!" Alfred slapped his forehead.

"See, nothing to be ashamed of." Ivan and rose to his feet and moved in front of Alfred.

"Yea…" Blue eyes looked up at him. "Uh, what'cha doing big guy?"

"Your embarrassment is over now, yes?"

"I guess, yea."

"And it felt good, yes?"

"Yea." Alfred nodded and smiled a little to himself. "Yea, like really good."

Ivan smiled and bent down to whisper hotly into Alfred's ear. "Then let me make it feel better."

Alfred could only reply with a moan as Ivan ran a hand through his hair, causing his head to fall back and lips to part in a breathy gasp. It took only a moment for Ivan to pick Alfred up by his waist and hoist him onto the sink counter and stand between his sprawled legs.

Hair didn't have nerve endings, it was dead. So Ivan assumed that it must be the hair follicles that were so extremely sensitive to pressure. He looped Nantucket around his index finger and gave a soft tug. Alfred's eyes fluttered closed and the sweetest whimper poured from him. Perfect.

Ivan watched intently and rubbed the bit of hair between his fingers. Alfred gasped, mouth opening wide, cheeks stained a bright crimson. He could feel warm thighs on either side of his hips quivering. The American reached out for him, fingers digging viciously in his broad shoulders. A new erection began to swell prominently under Alfred's apron. Instinctively, Alfred began to grind their hips together, trying desperately to find satisfaction.

"You're so needy." Ivan sang and smiled a little cruelly.

He tugged harshly on the loop of hair and a violent tremor wracked Alfred's lithe body. The American's hands slammed down hard onto the stone counter top causing little spidery fissures to crack along its surface. Ivan's eyes widened.

"Maybe we should move to the bed." Ivan prompted.

Alfred's chest heaved, and his blue eyes flashed dangerously over the rim of Texas. "If you stop now I swear I will shoot you."

And with that a firm demanding hand gripped that back of his neck and pulled him down into an opened-mouthed kiss. Alfred was strong, absurdly so. Even at his peak of strength Ivan had struggled to claim pure physical dominance over him. Overtime he had learned to weather and manipulate Alfred's strength, just like everything else.

Playing with Nantucket between two fingers caused Alfred to moan into the kiss, their hips rolling together all the while. All it took was a small tug on his hair and Alfred cried out and then clamp down on Ivan's bottom lip. The American's hips jerked, chest shuddering and then stillness. When Ivan released the sprig of hair Alfred sighed and then teased and pulled at his captured lip with his teeth before freeing it.

"My bad." Alfred said softly and slumped back against the wall.

Ivan licked his abused lip tasting blood. He smiled.

"It's fine. I find it very interesting." He mused leaning over to open the medicine cabinet.

"What?" Alfred asked, getting his breath back.

"That I can make you soil yourself just because I decided to mess with your hair."

"Shut up."

Ivan tutted and removed a bottle of lotion from the cabinet and placed it on the counter.

"Come now, you've been taking advantage of my weakness for decades. Isn't it my turn? Besides you should be happy I decided to try this out here and not in public like you did in oh… '79?"

Ivan remembered very vividly during a photo opt during the final SALT II negation Alfred had stood close to him as a sign of good fellowship behind their leaders and negotiators. Really, Alfred had stood close so that he could sneak his hand up the back of Ivan's scarf and molest the bare back of his neck. The mere memory made goose bumps rise on his arms. He'd had to excuse himself from the meeting and almost ran out of the room.

"Oh yeaa!" Alfred laughed at the memory. "That was hilarious."

"Well wait until next meeting to see if you find it so funny then." Ivan threatened with a smile.

"Not fair dude." Alfred pouted.

"Oh no." Ivan said and petted Alfred's head, causing the American to shiver and lean into the touch. "I think it's more than fair."

Alfred managed to shake off the spell the stroking had put him under and smacked his hand away hard. It seemed Alfred had a difficult time controlling his strength when Nantucket was touched.

"Dude I am not cumming in my pants again."

Alfred reached behind himself and untied his apron. Tossing the loop of fabric over his head he threw the apron to the ground, shirt not far behind. He kicked off his shoes and began to unbuttoned his pants, which Ivan helped him wriggle off along with his soiled underwear.

Ivan was about to reach for the bottle when Alfred tugged at his scarf, reeling him toward him. Normally Ivan was very sensitive about people touching his scarf, but Alfred had never really cared. Over the years he'd grown to accept that Alfred would touch it, but out of intimacy and nothing else.

Alfred unwound the fabric around his neck once and let the rest hang about his neck like a shawl. The American reached out a hand to stroke the pale column with the pads of his fingers. A soft groan came from Ivan's throat at the feeling. The fingers grazed over a multitude of scars and focused on a round one shaped like a broken cloud. Round and round the fingers circled and Ivan couldn't help but pant as desire made his stomach flutter and loins ache.

"I'm sorry." Alfred said and leaned toward him, looking at the bite mark. "I can't imagine what that must have felt like."

"You didn't know." Ivan murmured. "Now you do, make it up to me now."

A hot, moist tongue licked down the side of side neck making his eyes roll back. Ivan had to grab onto the counter for support as his knees turned to jelly. Soft suckling kisses followed the line of his tendon and made him moan softly in the back of his throat each time. He was breathless by the time Alfred slowly made it to his jawline, head swimming in a way that could only be described as euphoric.

Fingers tugged at his belt and buttons and soon his pants slid down his legs handing on the floor with a clank. Underwear followed and soon Alfred was cupping and rubbing the heel of his hand against his hard penis.

Their lips found each other, kissing with teeth and tongue. Ivan's hands roamed the other's body, one coming up to fist Alfred's hair. The American yelped and clung to him, nails digging into his back so hard his shirt ripped and fingers bit into the flesh of his back. He groaned at the feeling, but the pain made his pulse jump.

"You can't control your strength can you?" He asked out of interest.

Alfred just shook his head and moaned, tossing his head back as Ivan jerked Nantucket. Already the American was getting hard again, far faster than he normally did thanks to his new found weakness. Alfred ground their hips together, legs splaying invitingly wide. Alfred wasn't speaking, his words gone; voice only able to utter heated groans and sighs. Ivan couldn't help but smile wickedly.

"Tell me what you want."

The taunt throat struggled to articulate. "Ah-h, d-don't be a dick."

Ivan smirked and teased the hair between his thumb and forefinger. "Tell me."

A shiver ran down Alfred's spine and he ground his teeth together. Ivan yanked harder and caused Alfred's legs to spasm and crack against the wood of the lower cabinet splintering it.

"Ah! F-fuck, fuck me." Alfred pleaded, looking up at him through lust hazed eyes.

"Of course." Ivan sang in his lilting, mocking tone and let go of the American's hair.

Alfred leaned back against the wall chest heaving and glasses askew. He loved Alfred like this: flushed, panting, and wanton. Ivan spread lotion on his fingers before grasping the back of the American's knee and spreading his legs wider apart. Alfred sank back onto elbows, laid out on the counter.

The first finger speared him easily, the second fit with little resistance, the third was tight, and by the fourth Alfred was practically fucking himself on his fingers. His lover gave a keening cry each time his fingers wetly entered. When Alfred's elbows started to tremble from keeping him upright Ivan figured he'd had enough. Removing his fingers he let Alfred slide off the counter and stand shakily to his feet.

The American didn't have to be positioned or told, he immediately turned around and bent over, resting his chest against the warm, sweat slicked counter. Alfred turned to look back at him and with a hand pulled one ass cheek to the side, opening and exposing himself.

The sight and the come hither look flashing in those blue eyes made Ivan swallow hard, throat suddenly dry. He had to look down for a moment, composing himself, and he slicked his penis with lotion. Alfred moaned long and loud as he slowly entered him, his taunt butt and thighs pressing back against Ivan taking everything.

Ivan let out a sharp pant as the tight warmth enveloped him. His hands gripped tan hips and his back bowed, bending so low his nose brushed Alfred's shoulder. Alfred's muscled clenched and relaxed, adjusting. When Alfred gave a nod Ivan pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade and then rolled his hips.

America was loud. That was a given, but hearing the symphony of moans and curses would never get annoying. They would always be beautiful because they were for him. Every thrust drug a throaty note from Alfred, who always pushed back, opening himself more for the invasion.

The pace grew quick. His scarf fluttered to the floor and at some point he heard Texas clatter onto the countertop. Reaching out Ivan fisted Alfred's hair making the younger nation howl. The suddenness of this made the American jerk upward and search blindly for support. Alfred ended up slamming a hole through the dry wall in front of him with the palm of his hand he orgasmed, spilling onto the floor in spurts. Ivan was far gone, with one last thrust found release deep inside the other.

He let go of the blonde hair and let his hand slump onto the counter. Panting Ivan held himself up and slowed pulled out of the other. Alfred groaned softly and shivered, knees buckling he slid to the floor. Ivan collapsed against the opposite wall and let it guide him down to the floor as well. They sat collecting their breath. Alfred let himself fall and he collided with his back against Ivan's chest. He looked down at Alfred's flushed face, swollen lips, and bruised hips and felt very satisfied.

"My bathroom's trashed."

"Да."

The wall had a sizeable hole, the counter was cracked impressively, and the wooden cabinet door was splintered and kicked in. It looked like a demolition crew had let up shop.

"Not bad." Alfred said. "Gonna be a bitch to fix though."

"Reminds me of when we broke your desk in the White House." Ivan remembered and gave a small chuckle.

"Pfft, dude, Nixion was so not happy."

Ivan laughed again softly and kissed Alfred's temple. The American smiled and rested his head on his shoulder. Contentment filtered through him and there they stayed for a little. They sat talking, remembering until Alfred's stomached growled.

((Author's Note: Due to the possibly graphic nature of this story it will also be posted on AO3 in case of deletion. This is an old story that was recently finished after being abandoned for two years. I'm sorry Anon. I hope this is to your liking.))


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